


Pueblo

by trishabooms



Series: Pueblo [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M, Mpreg, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishabooms/pseuds/trishabooms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Future fic that ties in with the season 5 finale.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Pueblo

**Author's Note:**

> Future fic that ties in with the season 5 finale.

**Beta:** [](http://silentflux.livejournal.com/profile)[**silentflux**](http://silentflux.livejournal.com/)  
 **Note:** Future fic that ties in with the season 5 finale.  
This is my first and certainly my last mpreg. I saw a prompt on the Spn kink meme and it resulted in this. It's also, surprisingly, my first Wincest.  
Many thanks to [](http://kazlynh.livejournal.com/profile)[**kazlynh**](http://kazlynh.livejournal.com/) for her help and insights on Hopi culture.

**Pueblo**

  
“Hey, Rey, try turning her over again, man!” Dean shouted to the younger of the Montoya brothers sitting in the cab of the truck.

Sam had named Dean’s truck Betsy, and Dean hated the temperamental bitch with a passion. The fucking truck was a nightmare, breaking down just about every damn week. There weren’t many days that went by when he didn’t mourn the loss of his Impala. His girl, the closest thing he and Sam ever had to a home, was gone now. It had been two years since they’d been forced to abandon her at the side of the road somewhere in Texas, too damaged to go on.

Dean brushed an engine grubby hand back through his hair, moving it out of his eyes as Rey tried the engine again and he waited for it to catch, fingers mentally crossed. For a moment he thought it still wasn’t going to start and then suddenly, it chugged noisily back to life.

“ _Dé gracias a Dios_!” Dean grinned, dropping the hood with a satisfying clang and jumping back into the cab as Rey slithered over to the passenger seat. He knew he was going to have to replace the starter, and it was one more expense that he and Sam didn’t need right now.

Of all the times Betsy could have decided to break down on him _again_ , she had to pick today. Dean checked his watch; it would take another good hour for them to get back home.

  
Home, it was a word that still felt strange to Dean.

People tend to bury their heads in the sand when it came to most things and the apocalypse was no exception. The world had been ending, but Mr and Mrs Joe Average had only seen what they wanted to see, turning a blind eye to the supernatural, and denying the truth even when it landed on their doorsteps. The fate of mankind had rested on the shoulders of a surprising few, but they had survived, scraping through by the skin of their teeth. In the meantime people had gone about business as usual and if the seas were boiling or their brother one state over had turned into a zombie, well, there was always some explanation they could convince themselves was plausible.

The world hadn’t come out of it unchanged, there were more demons walking this earth than ever before, together with countless other evil things that had crawled their way out of the pit, flocking to Lucifer’s call. Too many of them remained, left behind after the devil was back in his cage.

He and Sam were still hunted men, searched for by demons and angels alike who wanted revenge. More than a few hunters blamed the whole sorry mess on the two of them, and maybe they were right -- Dean didn’t know any more, didn’t really care, but he’d grown tired of running from all of them.

After the events at Stull Cemetery Sam had, somehow, pulled himself free of Lucifer, after caging him once more, but when he returned he was no longer himself - barely human in fact.

Dean, unable to cope with the loss of his brother or adapt to the apple-pie life, he might have had with Lisa and Ben, had returned to hunting alone. Thinking that Sam was gone, Dean had become reckless, taking insane chances. Eventually, that stupidity had turned around and bit him in the ass, or to be more precise, in the leg. He had been mauled by something he was pretty certain was an Imp, muscle and flesh torn away almost down to the bone. He should have died, bled out right there. Hell, he had been ready to, but Dean had always had an on odd relationship with death.

It was Castiel who had searched and found him and Sam, both more dead than alive. The angel had brought the two of them, exhausted in mind and body, to the Mesa Diablo Pueblo, reuniting them.

It was a rare privilege for an outsider to be allowed into their matriarchal society but Castiel had convinced their shaman, Abuela Elena, and the brothers had been taken in by the Pueblo people, fed and made welcome. With the angel’s help, the old medicine woman had done all she could to heal them, but despite their best efforts neither of them were the men they used to be. Dean’s leg wasn’t strong anymore. He limped badly even now and the scars... Well, the scars were something else.

Lucifer had damaged Sam in ways Dean could scarcely begin to understand. He had been barely human when Castiel brought him to the pueblo, so disturbed and withdrawn that Dean was certain the little brother he knew and loved was lost forever. When Sam had ripped himself free from Lucifer, parts of the fallen one had been left behind, at least that was how Sam explained it later. What remained was a mix of purity and dark knowledge that had taken his little brother a long time to even begin to adjust to. Sam had his own invisible scars and they were just as deep as Dean’s physical ones. His little brother was quieter now than he’d ever been, only truly comfortable around a handful of people.

As their bodies and minds healed under her watchful eye, Abuela Elena had offered them a new life; sanctuary amongst her people and the chance to start again, make a home for themselves. Both of them wanted an end to hunting, and being allowed to stay permanently at the pueblo had meant an awful lot to the two of them.

Sam had slowly come back to himself again, the peace and simplicity of pueblo life helping his mind and soul to heal. As much as he shied away from the company of adults Sam had discovered he had a way with children and at Abuela Elena’s urging he’d eventually taken on the role of teacher to the pueblo’s younger children. The people understood what had happened to Sam, their belief in the spiritual world helping to guide that understanding. The people treated him much as they did their ageing shaman, revering him as a medicine man and one who walked two paths. Sam’s gentle nature and respect for their ways and culture had endeared him even more.

Once Dean had healed, as much as he was going to, he’d been kinda lost, with too much energy and no real outlet, not at first anyway.

To survive the people of Mesa Diablo had to make money, they did this by selling the things they made in the nearest town; Santa Beatus. Tourists may not flock there in droves but Santa Beatus did quite well from the apocalypse ignorant, tourist trade. The picturesque little town attracted what Dean called hippy types: college kids and back packers mostly. The craft work the pueblo dwellers made was pretty popular with them and they sold a selection of pottery and amazing basket ware, traditional clothing, weaving and examples of their culture, such as beaded prayer sticks. They also sold jewellery, mostly it was handmade bead necklaces and bracelets but there was also the work of Tio Felipe.

Outside of his encounters with Reapers and the occasional reanimated corpse, Tio Felipe was the oldest looking man Dean had ever seen; frail in appearance, his heavily wrinkled skin tanned like leather by the sun and with pure white hair that hung down to his shoulders and was thinning badly. Sam called the old man gregarious, and if that meant the old bastard never shut up then he was right. Dean wouldn’t have minded that too much but Felipe spoke Tiwa, with just a smattering of Spanish, and Dean was pretty sure that the jokes the old silversmith continuously made, that had everyone else falling about laughing, were usually at his expense.

The old man was a master craftsman. Until he moved to the pueblo Dean’s only experience in working silver had been casting silver bullets for hunting, but watching the old man work he couldn’t help but be amazed by his skill. He wasn’t sure quite when he took on the role of Tio Felipe’s apprentice but Dean soon found he had a knack for working silver and making jewellery.

Santa Beatus had been busy with tourists all day, and Dean had made some good money. When he first started making jewellery he was making decorative mounts for the semi-precious stones that were so plentiful in the area, just as he’d been taught, but with encouragement from the old man he’d gone on to work just in silver, turning his hand to pendants, bracelets, rings and earrings and using protection symbols in his finely wrought designs. His pieces were really popular with tourists and on a good day Dean did pretty well. At least half of what he made went into the pueblo’s funds, just as everyone else’s earnings, but the rest belonged to him and Sam and the two of them needed all the money they could get.

He pushed Betsy as hard as he could, kicking up a cloud of dust as he raced back to the pueblo. He checked his watch, knowing he’d most probably missed the doctor. He’d wanted to be there when she checked Sam over. Sam had a habit of glossing things over, only telling Dean what he thought his brother needed to hear. He was pretty certain that in his absence, Abuela Elena would have insisted on being there with Sam, and he knew that Sam was no more able to refuse the flint-eyed shaman anything than he was.

Just as he expected the doctor was gone when he arrived. Rey took over unloading the supplies Dean had bought from the truck, urging Dean to go and see Sam.

The smells of cooking hit him as soon as he entered the two story, flat roofed, adobe dwelling he and Sam now called home. It was an ancient place, built out from the rock walls of the mesa itself, primitive he guessed, to the minds of those used to living with all the modern comforts but its more than the two of them had ever really had.

It was Abuela Elena tending the cook-pot, not Sam, and Dean had a moment of panic until she favoured him with a gap toothed smile.

“He okay?” Dean asked her, fingers combing through his hair and brushing it behind his ears.

She nodded. “Dr Neumann says Sam must rest more but she is pleased.”

Dean couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief. “So where is he?” It’s not like he couldn’t guess.

The old woman just rolled her eyes, knowing she didn’t need to answer. “Doctor says it will be soon now. There is much going on inside here.” Abuela Elena tapped her temples. “I will summon the winged one you call Castiel and we will prepare the Kiva for the birth. We will ask Tawa to give the child his blessing.”

There was a part of Dean that even now didn’t want their child to be born in an underground kiva, that wanted Sam to give birth in the doctor’s office, but Castiel, Abuela Elena and even Sam himself had done all they could to convince him that this was the safer option; that the wards and spells within the kiva chamber and in the pueblo itself would hide their child’s birth from both demons and angels alike. Plus Dr Neumann would be there to take care of Sam.

“The baby is ready to be born,” the old woman continued. “Sam worries that he is not ready.”

Dean wasn’t exactly surprised at that - Sam had a talent for over thinking things. He pulled his bag off his shoulder. “I’ll go up,” he told her. “Talk to him.”

“There is food, you both should eat.”

Dean nodded, pausing on his way up to see Sam to press a kiss to the old woman’s lined cheek. “ _Gracias abuela, eres una buena mujer._ ”

The adobe steps were steep enough to make Dean’s leg throb after his long day at the market. The ladder up to the roof was even harder going, Sam shouldn’t be coming up here now but trying to convince Sammy to stop doing anything was no easier now than it had been when he was a kid.

His was sitting cross legged on their roof looking out at the spectacular view over the valley. It was a familiar pose. Sam had spent hours sitting up here when he was recovering, and still liked to spend time up here every day reading, thinking or quite possibly brooding.

Dean had let his hair grow longer since he’d stopped hunting; it was collar length these days and bleached lighter by the sun. Sam’s hair, which he’d always preferred to wear long, now hung down to his shoulders. He’d lost a lot of weight when Castiel first brought them here, a lot of muscle mass, as had Dean. It had taken Sam a long time to put that weight back on. Convincing Sam to take care of himself hadn’t been easy, not at first, his guilt, his horror at what Lucifer had done whilst Sam was his vessel had been too much. Now though, now Sam looked good, better than Dean had ever seen him and over the last months...

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Dean.” His brother turned and he was relieved to see the broad smile and to hear the pleasure in Sam’s voice, he wasn’t sure if Sam was going to be pissed at him for not getting back here on time, his brother’s mood swings had been all over the place lately.

“Did Betsy break down on you again?” Sam asked him.

“Yeah, the starter motor’s fucked. I need to strip it down tomorrow, see if it’s fixable.”

Sam frowned, his brow furrowing. “Can we afford to get a new one?”

Dean shrugged. “No sense in spending money if we don’t have to,” he told him. “Besides,” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on his brother’ s lips, “We’re going to have more important things to spend our money on, real soon.”

His leg aching, Dean lowered himself carefully to sit beside his brother on one of the large floor cushions they kept up there. He reached out to place a hand on top of the grey wife-beater Sam was wearing and stroked over Sam’s distended belly.

His brother was heavily pregnant, into his third trimester. The ability to conceive and bare a child was one of the remnants of Sam’s angelic possession by Lucifer. Dean didn’t really understand it, despite Sam’s attempts to explain, it has something to do with angels being both male and female.

It had taken a lot for Dean to admit that his love for his brother was more than simple familial love, that it was something deeper, something that went beyond anything Dean was capable of feeling for anyone else. Sam, on the other hand, had never had Dean’s hang-ups. When those feelings went beyond brotherly and became incestuous, it was Sam who could cope, who helped him to understand that the way they’d been raised, the lives they’d led, had pushed them towards each other. Dean understood that, he did, at least most of the time. In his darker moments he wondered what this dad’s reaction would have been. Part of him was fairly certain that had John Winchester still been alive he would be amongst the hunters who still hunted them, even now.

Incest was one thing, pregnancy was another; it had been a shock at first, even now it was frightening, but the prospect of a child, their child... There was a rightness about it for Dean, a blessing that had come to mean so much to the two of them.

“So, what did the doc say,” Dean wanted to know. “I tried to get back in time but...”

“I know,” Sam told him. “You didn’t miss too much, everything’s looking good, and baby’s nearly ready to be born, Dean.” His brother let out a long breath.

“Nervous?” Dean knew the answer to that one; he just wanted to know _how_ nervous his brother was.

“I’m trying not to think about it, but yeah.” Sam admitted, his expression suddenly so young, so open. “She wants you to be here next week, so she can talk us through what to expect.”

“I’ll be here,” Dean assured him, leaning forward to squeeze Sam’s hand. “Rey can do the market, end of the month is usually pretty quiet,” he reflected. “Abuela Elena said the doc mentioned something about you resting.”

“Yeah, my blood pressure is higher than it should be; she wants me to stop working, stay home and rest up a little.”

“Maybe _not_ climb the ladder to the roof?” Dean suggested, gently.

Sam flushed a little. “Maybe not. She says the poor sleeping and the aches and pains are pretty normal and she gave me some cream to rub in, to stop my belly itching. You could help me with that,” Sam smiled.

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean grinned back at him then grimaced suddenly as a sharp pain shot up what was left of his calf.

“You okay?” Sam asked, concerned.

“ _Fucking_ leg!” He released his hold of Sam’s hand so he could massage the hurt to a more bearable level. He knew he’d pushed it today, spent too much time on his feet in his determination to make as much money as he could for Sam and their baby.

“Sit back,” Sam told him, easing closer. “Let me.”

“I got it, Sam, it’s fine, I... _Shit_!” Another spear of sharp, white hot pain had Dean fisting both hands into the brightly coloured cushion beneath him.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam’s large, competent hands were suddenly easing up the leg of his jeans, their touch firm but gentle as his skilled fingers massaged the horrifically scarred flesh. “I thought we had an agreement. I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t gonna do this to yourself.”

Dean slit open eyes he had screwed up as the pain hit, to be met by an expression on his brother’s face that flickered between sympathy, worry and full on bitch face.

“I know, I know,” he admitted, through pained gasps. “But there was money to be made Sam, and with it being so close to the baby coming...”

“And if our baby comes and you can barely damn move, what then, huh?” Sam fumed. “We’ll manage, Dean.”

“When you were a kid, growing up, we barely had two cents to rub together, Sammy. I don’t want that for our baby, I want...”

“Everything, I know,” Sam said, voice gentling. “But you know what? I had you to take care of me, and _you_ were everything to me, still are and always will be.” He added, giving Dean a soft smile. “Money isn’t everything, having parents around who love you and a home to grow up in... We can give our baby that, Dean.”

“You’re such a damn girl, you know that?” Dean huffed.

“And you’re such a damn jerk.”

“Bitch!”

Sam grinned. “How you doing, pain easing any?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Dean nodded, truthfully, as the pain started to recede to more manageable levels. “Give me a minute and we’ll get your Sasquatch ass downstairs. Abuela Elena made food and I’m starving.”

  
The two of them ate together; Abuela Elena had made calabacitas, one of Dean’s favourites, with corn tortillas. It wasn’t as hot as Dean liked but a pregnant Sam and spicy food didn’t mix too well. Later they sat and listened to the solar powered clockwork radio Sam had insisted they buy twelve months earlier, when Dean’s longing for television had driven his brother more than a little crazy. The radio hadn’t seemed much of a substitute at first but now Dean was hooked.

He yawned for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes as they lounged on their comfortable couch, Dean carding his fingers through Sam’s long hair as he lay with his head on a cushion in Dean’s lap.

“Time for bed?” Sam asked him, eyes smiling up at him.

“It’s still kinda early.”

“You were up _kinda_ early too, man, remember?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean admitted. Truth was he could hardly keep his eyes open but he’d barely seen Sam all day.

“How about we go to bed now and you can rub some of that cream Dr Neumann gave me into my belly?” Sam offered.

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean grinned, helping his little brother to sit up fully before they could both get off the couch.

Dean loved their bed - well, mattress. It was large enough to accommodate Sam’s six foot four inch frame with ease and pretty much the most comfortable thing he had ever slept on. He came across it by chance on one of his rare forays to the city, buying it for half price in a discount store, loading it up onto Betsy and driving it home. The man in the store said it was fire damaged and Dean had to admit it had smelt faintly of smoke when he was loading it into the back of the truck, but after the long journey back to the Pueblo, Dean could barely smell a thing and if Sam had noticed any lingering smell he’d never mentioned it. Any smell that might have remained was long gone now anyway, lost beneath the scent of oils, incense and purifying herbs that Sam burned on a regular basis.

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked him, coming to join him in bed.

“Are you happy, Sammy?”

Sam raised a curious brow. “What brought this on?”

“I just... I...” He rubbed a hand thoughtfully over the back of his neck, unsure how to explain himself to Sam. He’d never been the one with all the words, that was his little brother’s thing, not his. “This, us, this is home, it’s good, right?”

“Yeah, we have a good home here,” Sam told him. “I can’t remember ever being this happy before, can you?”

“No,” Dean admitted, the relief he was feeling making his heart pound in his chest.

Sam’s lips turned up into a smile. “We having ourselves a chick-flick moment here, Dean?”

“ _No_ , I was just...”

“I am happy, Dean. Happy here, with you,” His brother’s voice deepened and he leaned around to lay one of those huge hands of his on Dean’s cheek before kissing him softly. “I’ve got everything I ever wanted,” Sam continued, when he broke the kiss. “And in a couple of weeks the two of us are going to have a baby, _our_ baby, Dean.”

  
Dean gazed down at his brother’s distended belly and slowly stroked his hand across it. The movement he felt beneath his hand made him close his eyes. He’d never quite gotten over that first time he’d felt their baby move and every time it happened it filled him with wonder. He raised his brother’s t-shirt slowly and placed a gentle kiss on his belly.

“I could rub that cream on for you if you wanted,” he offered.

“That would be good.” Sam reached onto his bedside cabinet and handed Dean a tub of cream before pulling off his t-shirt and stretching out on the bed.

Dean used to love women, the round soft contours of their bodies. He was a leg man, liked ‘em long, shapely. A breast man too, be it a pert little handful or lush, glorious pillows. Not that he had anything against a fine ass, heart shaped and sexy. These days though, all he did was look, and he hadn’t been with anyone other than Sam since he’d come to Mesa Diablo. He barely even looked if truth be known. He had all he wanted in Sam; in that hot, strong, finely sculpted, body that went on for miles.

Sam becoming pregnant hadn’t diminished Dean’s desire for his brother - actually, quite the opposite. He was beautiful like this. He’d heard people say that women glowed when they were pregnant, it hadn’t really meant much to him, but looking at Sam now with his darkly tanned, flawless skin, silken hair and bright, incredible eyes that Dean couldn’t hide from, even if he wanted to, and Dean knew exactly what they meant.

Sam groaned beneath him as Dean massaged the lavender scented cream the doctor had left into the taut but soft flesh of his rounded belly, taking time out to tongue his brother’s navel which had gone from an innie to an outie as his belly had swollen with their child.

“Feel good?” Dean asked, before reaching up to capture his brother’s lips with his, the strung-out sounds Sam was making causing his already interested cock to swell pleasantly against the soft cotton of his boxers.

“Yeah, just...” Sam squirmed a little more, his fingers braceleting Dean’s wrist and guiding his hand towards his cock. “Lower,” He demanded. “I need you to get me off.”

Dean wasn’t oblivious to his little brother’s increasing state of arousal, but his hands were covered in the cream and he wasn’t sure Sam would want the stuff on his cock.

“Maybe I should wash my hands first.”

“What? No, Dean,” Sam whined. “Come on.”

“Yeah, but the cream,” Dean insisted.

“Is fine, I read the fucking label.”

Of course he had, that was Sam all over.

“Will you just get on with it already?” Sam pushed.

“You’re a toppy bastard for a guy who’s on his third trimester.” He pointed out.

Sam’s head came up off the pillow. “Are you calling me a girl?”

“Well if the pregnancy fits...” Dean grinned, cocking an eyebrow.

“The reason, the _only_ reason, I’m not nailing your ass to the bed right now, Mr ‘ _finger me, Sammy, oh god it feels so good, please_.’ Is because I’m not a damn contortionist, but once our baby is born...” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “That fine ass is _mine_ big brother!”

Dean gulped his mind racing for a smart-ass reply.

“A-ah,” Sam warned him. “One attempt at a comeback and there’ll be no ‘ _fingering you_ ’ for the duration. Now get me the fuck _off_!”

Dean still isn’t sure about the cream so he compromised, scooting lower down the bed and moving Sam’s legs up and open. His little brother smelled good as Dean nuzzled him there, a combination of the lavender in the cream, the almond oil soap Dean brought him from Santa Beatus and that wonderful smell that was all Sam, a mix of sweet musk and sun-drenched skin.

He was good at giving head, at least that’s what Sam told him. He enjoyed it, loved the way he could work his brother up slowly, coax out words and sounds until both ran together creating the best music he had ever heard. He took his time tonight, stroking Sam’s thighs, feeling the tremor there as a sheen of sweat coated his brother’s body and those large, beautiful hands fisted into the sheets.

Seeing his brother coming undone like this was too much for Dean. He reached down into his boxers, taking himself in hand and jacking off frantically.

“Please, Dean, _please_.”

He swallowed his brother down suddenly, gasping a little as Sam bucked, shooting down Dean’s throat as he came.

He rolled away from his brother onto his back at the bottom of the bed so he could finish himself off. It didn’t take long, a half dozen fast, clumsy strokes and he was coming over his belly.

Panting, he turned his head and met his brother’s eyes.

“God, Dean.” Sam reached for him awkwardly and Dean moved up to lie beside his brother, kissing his mouth, hands roaming.

“You okay?”

“You know, I wouldn’t have minded helping you with that.”

Dean grinned. “I was in the moment, Sammy, what can I say?” He eased off the bed, discarding his underwear, and limped over to their washstand in the corner to dampen a cloth with some water from the jug, wiping himself off before coming back and sitting on the edge of their bed so Sam, who had sat up, could use the cloth if he wanted to.

He raised his eyebrow when he saw the wetness, that clearly wasn’t sweat, on Sam’s chest, concerned that his brother might have been crying.

“You sure you’re okay, Sammy?”

“Huh?”

“You’re wet, man. What were you doing, drooling?”

Sam frowned, studying the wet patch curiously before looking up at Dean, his eyes wide. “I’m lactating.”

“What?”

“Lactating; I’m making breast mi...”

“I know what it means, smartass, I just...” Dean shook his head. “You’re doing that?”

Sam nodded. “I think so. Dr Neumann said she thought I might be able to.”

“Holy shit!” Dean studied his brother’s nipples, they did look kinda different, a little swollen maybe. He reached up to touch one, pausing before he did so to look at Sam. “Can I?”

Sam nodded, clearly as fascinated as Dean was.

He touched his brother gently and Sam jumped a little.

“Are they..? Did that hurt?” Dean asked, moving his hand away.

“No, just, they’re really sensitive. It felt kinda good actually.” He rubbed his own hand over his right pec’ before squeezing the nipple and sure enough, a drop of liquid came out. “Oh God!”

Sam looked at him uncertainly but there was the trace of a smile there. He caught the drop on his fingertip then raised it to his lips, tongue coming out to taste.

Dean was pretty sure it was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen.

“What does it taste like?”

“It’s kinda sweet, it’s... Try,” Sam urged.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Dean gently massaged his brother’s left pec’, which drew a low moan from Sam, before squeezing the teat and watching as a drop of fluid leaked out. He bit his lip, looking up at Sam.

“Taste it,” Sam told him, his deep voice breaking a little as he spoke.

Dean caught the fluid on his finger and hesitantly brought it to his mouth. The taste _was_ kind of sweet, just like his brother said.

“Dude, you got man boobs.”

Sam laughed. “The doctor said they looked a little swollen. Men can sometimes lactate, if their breasts are stimulated enough. But she suspected it could be possible for me to make actual milk that could feed our baby.”

Dean smiled, running his fingers gently around Sam’s nipples. “That’s a good thing, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam admitted.

“So you’ll just keep on making this stuff?”

“If I encourage it then, yeah.” Sam nodded. “At least I guess so.”

“Encourage it?”

“Yeah. As long as they don’t express it, moms who don’t breast feed will have their milk eventually dry up.”

“So we need to encourage the milk.” Dean bent his head to Sam’s chest, licking over one of his nipples with the flat of his tongue before sucking on it, still amazed when he felt drops of milk on his tongue.

Sam’s groan of pleasure made him grin. “God, Dean! That feels... I think maybe they’re hardwired to my cock.”

“ _That_ , little brother, is awesome!”

Dean’s grin was a broad and happy one as he reached out to stroke his hands over Sam’s face, pushing the long, unruly hair back behind his ears with gentle affection. Things might not be perfect but Dean didn’t care. He had Sam, and soon they’d have their baby. Family and home, it may not be the apple pie life he had always imagined but it was exactly what he wanted.

**The End.**


End file.
